


just me & my girlfriend

by nymja



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Tumblr fill, mix of modern AU and canon fills, relationship and character tags to be added as we go!, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-04-06 20:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: A collection of short fic & drabbles with only f/f ships!--five.Ygritte & Brienne: Steal Your Girl--request stuff!





	1. sansa/mya: hell hike

**Author's Note:**

> for pride i'm trying to fill a bunch of f/f prompts! hit up my tumblr if you have anything you want to see :D

Sansa had been excited, at first. When Arya said she had someone she wanted to set Sansa up with, she’d been hesitant. Even more so when she was told it was Arya’s boyfriend’s sister. It wasn’t that she  _ disliked  _ Gendry, exactly, but he was often silent, scowling, and impatient with nearly everyone but Arya. Naturally, Sansa’s mental image of this date was that she would look and act exactly like him. Maybe with longer hair. 

But Sansa had been pleasantly surprised when she pulled up to the park entrance where Mya worked, and where she had allegedly planned their date. She’d been wrong about the longer hair, and there was a certain similarity in appearance, but Mya had a large smile and an immediately friendly way about her that put Sansa at ease. 

“I don’t do this often,” Sansa disclaims as they begin to make their way to an entrance of a hiking trail. And it was true. She’d given up blind dates after the last, disastrous attempt with Harry.

“Well, that’s why you got me to help you,” Mya replies.  _ She’s cute,  _ Sansa admits, in hiking shorts and boots, a bandana tied around her neck to keep it from getting sunburned. “I have some canteens, sunscreen, first aid, and bug spray, but is there anything else you want to pick up before we get going?”

Sansa frowns. “For a hike?” 

Mya nods. “It’s a tougher one, but the view is incredible once you get to the scenic overhang.”

Sansa’s eyebrows furrow, just a little. Neither Arya nor Gendry had mentioned anything about intensive exercise. She looks at her trainers-- normal sneakers, not hiking boots, and with shorter socks. She’d picked out an outfit that was mildly athletic, knowing they were meeting at a park, but it was also more cute than functional. 

But how bad could it be? Mya knew this was a first date, and she highly doubted Arya thought they’d be a good match based on Sansa’s athleticism. 

“I should be alright,” she answers carefully.

Mya smiles, and she rather likes it. “Good! Follow me, and I’ll point out some of the wildlife as we go, too.”

It was unconventional as a first date, but Sansa had been on worse so she decided to see this through.

\--

This is the largest mistake she’s ever made. 

Her feet are aching from uneven and rocky terrain, her shins scratched up from sticks and shrubs. Her entire body is drenched in sweat, and she knows that she’s starting to go pink under the sun. Mya, meanwhile, looks refreshed and happy--the only sign of exertion a slight red tinge to her cheeks.

“And that’s a mockingbird-”

“I don’t care,” Sansa finally snaps, her body exhausted and patience gone. It’s been  _ three hours.  _ Three! Hours! Of hiking, of her date’s main conversation being about  _ fauna,  _ and Sansa is positive she’s going to murder her little sister once she gets home ( _ if  _ she gets home). 

Mya pauses, looking rather taken aback.  _ Good,  _ Sansa thinks, a little uncharitably, but that will happen when one’s first date was  _ in the middle of a bloody mountain.  _

“Would you like to rest?” She offers, hesitant. “I know the altitude can make some people dizzy-”

“What I want is to know why you thought this was a good idea for a first date,” Sansa says, more cross than angry now. 

A long silence. 

“Wait, this was a date?” Mya’s eyes are wide, lips parted--she looks horrified. 

And Sansa can feel her temper flare up again. “If you didn’t want to, I would have been happy to  _ not  _ climb a mountain-”

“No no no,” Mya says quickly, waving her hands. “It’s not that at all. It’s just…” She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. Lets go of a long, frustrated sigh. “My idiot brother said you wanted to see the mountain. I thought you were a  _ customer. _ ”

Sansa stares at her. She stares back, her ears going pinker than her cheeks.

And then the snort, loud and unladylike, escapes. With it, so does her anger. “I don’t know if I feel better or worse.”

“If it’s worse, we can kill him together,” Mya offers, genuinely mortified

Sansa seriously considers it, what with all the strained muscles and scratched up shins and trainers now ruined beyond repair, but decides it would ultimately upset Arya. “Let’s make it to the top, and see how I feel after that.”

Mya blinks, surprised. “You want to keep going?”

She nods, and feeling bold but also like she wants to make sure Mya knows  _ this was a date _ , grabs her hand. 

“We’re almost there, might as well see it.” Sansa sends her a slow look. “Also now that you know it’s a date, and are not trying to kill me with high altitude cardio, I might as well see that, too.”

After a moment, Mya grins, flexing her fingers around Sansa’s hand. “I don’t want to spoil you too much, but I do have several granola bars and whey shakes ready for a romantic lunch.”

Sansa wrinkles her nose. “Gendry is paying for a real dinner, next time.”

“Next time?”

Sansa lets out a little laugh. “This hardly counts, right?”

Mya smiles. Sansa smiles back.

-

Mya was right. The view really is spectacular. 


	2. dany/yara: the iron price

Her fingers trail over the armrest, lifting to hover when there’s sharp edges or uneven welding. The room is empty, giving Daenerys a moment to absorb what’s happened. Years of trauma, violence, and grief have manifested itself into one seat. There is still so much to be done, but this moment is for her. 

Daenerys turns around, and sinks into the Iron Throne. 

All of Westeros looks out beyond her.

-

Yara takes stock of the damages, lips pressed in a thin line as her Captains all gradually report in. 

“How many?” She asks, not turning to look as she pulls down on riggings. Half the sails on her flagship need replacing. The heat in the Crownlands is enough for her to have discarded her usual duster, and since they’ve now found themselves in peace time she’s also replaced her armor for lighter, linen fabrics with leathers to cover her forearms and chest. 

Arnolf, one of her best Captains, is straightforward as always. “Ten ships completely sunk. At least one thousand claimed by the Drowned God.”

She takes this in with a curt jut of her chin. “And the rest?”

“Fifteen damaged but repairable. Another thirty claimed from Euron’s fleet.” 

_ That  _ makes her smile. “What is dead may never die,” she says in dismissal.

Arnolf nods. “What is dead may never die.”

Yara looks out beyond the docks, where her fleet stands proud, banners of Krakens and Dragons flying in tandem like something out of a child’s nightmare. 

The Islands are finally hers, bought and paid for by the iron price. 

She finishes taking down the ruined sails, and wishes her brother were here to see it.

\--

The feast is more subdued than the one after the Long Night, but no less celebratory. Daenerys smiles quietly as she takes in her forces and allies: Jon among the Northman, Grey Worm and Missandei sitting among the Unsullied. The Dothraki, shouting and rowdy and she’s sure some will leave in order to fight in celebration. 

And Yara with the Iron Born. 

Daenerys catches her eye from the head table, and Yara stops whatever rowdy tale she is sharing with her men to send her a lazy smirk.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms tilts her head toward an empty hall, and Yara raises the goblet of wine in her hand.

\--

Yara presses her against the wall, her dry hands grabbing the front of her fine dress. She takes in Dany’s soft expression before she brings her lips down to hers, deep and slow as she parts her lips with her tongue. Dany sighs, a tension from her shoulders unleashing as her hands fold behind Yara’s neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Reluctantly, Yara pulls back, pressing her forehead to hers.

“How does it feel, cutting the balls off the Lannisters?”

Dany gives a small hum. A contented noise, like she’s unable to articulate what she’s feeling through words. Her thumb slides along Yara’s jawline, and she tilts her head up to press another, chaster kiss. “How does it feel to control the Iron Islands?”

“Overdue,” Yara breathes. “And fucking incredible.”

She smiles. “You saved my fleet from your uncle.”

Yara grabs one of her hands with her own, slowly drawing her thumb over the thin skin of her wrist. “My pleasure.”

“And what comes next, for the ruler of the Salt Throne?” 

Yara smiles. “Well…” She presses a light kiss beneath her ear, on her neck. “Since there’s no raping or pillaging to be done, I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Yara nods, her hand drifting down to her hip. Then lower. “Until then, I think I have an idea for the next few hours.”

Dany grins. “I do have a new room.”

“Then let’s break it in, Your Grace.”


	3. dany/yara: hung until dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompts kidnapping and getting rescued, and pirates!!

“You, Yara Greyjoy, have been accused of piracy, murder, theft-”

Yara runs her tongue across the roof of her mouth as he talks. She’s going to need spit in a minute.

“-unlawful imprisonment, kidnapping, arson, possession of-”

She wiggles her shoulders a little. Her neck’s got something of a kink in it, which is hilarious in a gallows humor sort of way.

“-impersonating a soldier on three different accounts, a nun on four different accounts, a different pirate-”

Impersonating another criminal shouldn’t really count, should it? Yara looks out at the crowd. Most of them are unrecognizable except for the fact that they all really, really want her to be dead right now. But then her eyes meet a set of purple ones, and Yara grins.

“-demonstrating a strong sense of malice toward children seven to fourteen years of age-”

Dany sticks out like a gorgeous, sore thumb in this sea of a mob. She looks caught somewhere between amused, resigned, and whatever the word was for “this, again?”

“-writing a threatening letter, saying a threatening threat, threatening a nun whilst impersonating another nun-”

Yara winks. Dany shakes her head, but moves all the same.

“-for these crimes, you have been sentenced to hang from the neck until dead. Any last words?”

There it is.

Yara leans her head back and spits right in his face. As he’s wiping it off with disgust, she smirks.“No, not yet.”

“Gods have mercy on your soul-”

The jailer gets shot in the back. He blinks, because this wasn’t how today was supposed to go she imagines, before his body goes limp and he sinks to his knees. Then the ground. Behind him, Dany casually begins reloading her musket.

“How’d you get caught this time?” She asks, taking aim at the hangman.

“It’s a long story.”

“Why don’t you try shortening it?”

“Got on the wrong boat.”

“Maybe that’s too short.”

The hangman falls down.

Daenerys walks over to the side of the gallows and nonchalantly cuts the rope connected to her neck as people start screaming.

“Robbed the wrong boat?”

“Much better.”

Dany goes to stand directly behind her, knife slicing the rope that binds her hands.

Yara looks down, over her shoulder with a grin. “If I jump will you catch me in your arms?”

“Not when I’m holding a knife.”

“I’m going to jump anyway.”

Yara jumps off the barrel she’s been perched on. Dany, her partner pirate queen, doesn’t catch her. Instead, she stands over her with a small little smile on her face. Yara coughs a little, but when Dany offers her hand she takes it.

“Does this mean I get Glad You Survived Sex?” She asks as Dany starts to lead her through the mob and back to their ship.

“Yara, that’s every Wednesday.”


	4. sansa/mya: barista au

Mya leans on the counter when Sansa goes to pick up her drink, a little smile on her face. “So, I know this might be entirely inappropriate, but I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me somewhere else, sometime?”

Sansa’s sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose. “You must be joking.”

Mya’s smile dies, and Sansa can almost see the bristles rising. “You don’t have to be rude about it-”

Sansa sets down her cup, the bottom of it making a sharp noise against the counter. “Three weeks ago. I wrote my phone number on the five dollar bill I paid you with.”

Mya’s eyes widen. “That was  _ your  _ number-?”

“I  _ signed  _ it.” Sansa raises two fingers. “Two days after that, I asked if you were single and you gave me an espresso instead of an answer.”

Her cheeks pinken. “I thought you asked  _ for  _ a single…”

“Last week, I told you I wanted to date you and you said your birthday was in December.”

“...I’m a Sagittarius…”

“ _ Yesterday,  _ I-”

Mya raises her hands, shaking them a bit. “I get it, I get it!” She bites the inside of her cheek, shooting her a cautious look that does placate her. Slightly. “So that’s a ‘no’ on coffee?”

Sansa sighs, tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I suppose not.” Her eyes narrow. “If only to tell you about the other  _ five times  _ I attempted to ask you out.”

“...ninth time’s the charm?”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I know.”


	5. ygritte/brienne: paying respects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the asoiafrarepair mini event <3

The whistle escapes the gap between her front teeth as Ygritte tilts her head back. The woman’s head blocks out the sun above her, casting a shadow. “You’re a sight, ain’t you?”

The woman turns, and her face no longer cast in shadow means Ygritte can make out her features: blue eyes and short, blonde hair. Lips pressed together tightly and a puzzled frown between her brows. “I beg pardon?”

Ygritte doesn’t answer the question, her eyes flickering to the woman’s waist. “You any good with that?”

“With my sword?”

“Aye. Big looking thing.” Ygritte makes her eyebrows dance. “Lotta muscle to lift that. Bet it means you have to  _take charge_.”

The woman’s frown deepens, but Ygritte pays it no mind. Her thoughts are already elsewhere--flexing arms, sturdy thighs. Most the girls on the right side of the Wall aren’t anywhere near as strong or big. Unless they were giants, but Ygritte’s had enough stories from Tormund to not be interested in that. 

“I suppose so, yes.” The woman goes to say something, then stops and changes course before the sentence even gets out. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know you.”

“Name’s Ygritte.” 

“Brienne,” she introduces with a short nod. “I assume you’ve arrived with Tormund’s party?”

“I arrive where I want to,” she corrects pointedly.

 Brienne starts to walk along the soldiers she’s preparing for the battle of the Long Night, and Ygritte falls into step beside her. It’s clear Brienne doesn’t know what to make of that. In the distance, Ygritte can make out Jon and Tormund watching their exchange--Tormund with curiosity, Jon with concern. Good, she thinks smugly. Serves him right.

They hadn’t parted on the best terms. The best terms being Ygritte getting shot in the leg again. Fucking Crows. 

But Brienne’s not a Crow. Ygritte looks up, eyes squinting a little.

“You like girls?”

Brienne presses her lips together. “I’ve respect for women, yes.”

“You respect them between their legs?”

The woman’s eyes go wide. When it seems like Brienne can’t articulate a response, Ygritte’s eyebrows raise, tone mocking.

“Maybe you’re the one wanting respect, then?” And, in case it wasn’t clear enough: “I’ll pay ‘em.”

“Lady Ygritte-”

“Ain’t no lady. Not unless you want me to be.”

Brienne takes a half-step away from her. “I am...flattered,” she manages, “But it’s not appropriate.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Ygritte says with a shrug. “You let me know when you’d rather be warm than appropriate.”

With that, she walks away, making sure to put some sway into her hips. Judging by Tormund’s expression as Ygritte approaches, it must be working. She keeps the eye of the Giantsbane, and as she passes him, she lets go of one, slow wink.

Tormund wouldn’t know what to do with her if he got her, anyways.

\--

That night at the feast, Ygritte makes a show of sucking grease from her thumb.   
That night at the feast, Ygritte watches Brienne as Brienne watches her and smirks.


End file.
